


Just a Little Affection

by Vizkopa



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert, op
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizkopa/pseuds/Vizkopa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You can't help who you fall in love with. You just wish it hadn't been him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Little Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for allusions to abusive relationship/rape. Nothing graphic, but better safe than sorry.

They say you can’t help who you fall in love with, and you were inclined to believe that, but right now all you could think was: _why him?_

From the moment you laid eyes on Eustass Kid, you knew he was trouble, and yet you could not seem to look away. He had a strange kind of magnetism that held you captive, his cold metal fingers gripped tightly around your heart, squeezing for all they were worth until your chest ached with longing and your breath caught in your throat. You _knew_ he was trouble and yet… You could not resist. 

It was not until you joined the Kid Pirates that you realised just how much trouble he really was. The man was cruel, merciless, his temper quicker than a bullet and hotter than boiling lava. He truly was a demon on the battlefield, but none more so than he was in bed.

The first night he took you to his cabin you were surprised, needless to say. He seemed not to show an interest in women, or pursuing sexual pleasure at all. Looking back, you thought perhaps it had been the liquor that night that had driven him to have his way with you, your screams and moans echoing in the darkness, his teeth and fingers leaving dark bruises against your flesh. 

Similar nights followed, all filled with pain and pleasure, and afterward he would simply turn away and fall asleep, leaving you to your thoughts, and often, your tears. 

But tonight was different.

“Fuck,” he growled as he finished, breaths coming in short pants. His normally spiked red hair fell into his eyes, plastered to his scalp and face with sweat. He did not move from you, his hands still clamped tightly around your body, head nestled in the crook of your neck.

His weight bore down and you, but it was a pleasant weight – warm and filled with an intimacy you had never shared with him before. It surprised and confused you, but you were not about to complain. 

Taking a chance, you hesitantly relaxed your fingers from where they had been moments before clawing at his shoulder blades out of pleasure, and trailed them upward to entangle in his hair, stroking gently at the crimson locks. He tensed slightly at the unfamiliar touch and raised his head to catch your eye. The scowl he usually wore was gone, maroon eyes, normally narrowed in contempt had softened. Not even a cruel smirk played at the corners of his dark lips. This was the face of Kid you had longed to see – vulnerable with just a hint of affection. 

You offered him a small smile and you thought you saw the corners of his mouth twitch before he seemed to catch himself and rolled off you. But instead of turning away as he usually did, he propped himself on his arm and lay beside you, watching your face curiously. His eyes trailed down your body and came to rest on the numerous bruises that littered your skin. He grimaced.

“I’m sorry.” It was gruff but it was sincere and more than you had ever gotten from him.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “They’re just bruises, they’ll heal.”

“They wouldn’t be there if it weren't for me. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I know you enjoy inflicting pain on others.”

He shifted closer, examining your face with a slight frown. “I do. But that’s not what I want for you.”

You were shocked into silence, eyeing the man before you with confusion. Swallowing, you found your voice. 

“Then what do you want?”

“I…” He seemed to struggle with the words, glancing away from your expectant gaze. “I want you to stop looking at me with fear in your eyes. I want you to stop crying at night after we…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of head nervously. “I want you to know this isn’t just fucking to me, it’s… more than that…”

You stared at him with wide eyes, reeling from his confession. But he wasn’t finished.

“I want you to be mine.”

He said the last words in a whisper and leaned in close, his metal hand creeping around to gently cup the back of your head, tentatively tilting your face toward his. You could see the indecision as his eyes and so you helped him by meeting him halfway. 

He only ever kissed you when he was drunk, and it only served to ease the sting of his temper that surfaced quickly under the influence of the alcohol. But this time was different. His lips were gentle against your own, tender and careful as if wary he might hurt you. You relished the sensation, hands creeping up to pull him closer, more forcefully against your mouth. 

When he pulled back, his pale face was flushed red. The colour deepened as he reached up tentatively to trail his fingers down your cheek and neck, brushing over your shoulder and pausing to rest at the bruises that encircled your upper arm. You shuddered as his thumb touched the tender, discoloured flesh, before his hand trailed down to massage your aching wrists. He cringed visibly as he felt the welts from the restraints he often liked to use, and brought your hands to his mouth, breath pleasantly cool against you skin, his maroon eyes never leaving yours. Tentatively, he kissed the wounds, softly so as not to cause you pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice earnest, almost desperate.

You smiled and leaned in for another tender kiss and, taking him by surprise, flipped him onto his back, straddling him with your knees. You leaned in close by his ear and he hummed at your warm breath on his skin, absently tracing circles across your thighs, careful to avoid the angry bruises that marred the otherwise smooth skin.

“I forgive you,” you whispered, kissing him once more.

And you always would. After all, you can’t help who you fall in love with…


End file.
